Gégé came back to him upon seeing him stuck in front of his apartment door.

"Got a problem?" he asked.

"Oh, um, yeah," Pierre admitted, embarrassed. "The door won't open. I tried the code several times. Did this happen to the other residents?"

"I haven't seen anyone except you. So, I can't tell you," Gégé replied.

"Darn it. Wait, I see something moving behind," Pierre said.

The door slowly opened to reveal a very old lady with her small wheeled cart. It was Mrs. Boileau, Pierre Marchais's neighbor.

"Oh, excuse me. I would like to pass," she politely apologized.

"Wait, don't close the door. I don't know why, but the entry panel is out of order. Like my phone and the cars," he explained to the elderly lady, who wasn't all there mentally.

"Oh? It's out of order? But I had no problem entering after my walk this morning," she said, as if her entire schedule had been suddenly disrupted.

"Because the outage happened in the afternoon. Nothing works in the city anymore. See? Cars aren't moving," Pierre gestured.

"Oh," the old lady simply remarked, looking around in surprise. "Ah, yes. And the traffic lights are off too. Oh! So, that's why my television isn't working! I thought it was my device that was broken. Oh, but wait. Does that mean I won't be able to get back in after my shopping?" she suddenly worried.

"Well, I think we'll have to find a workaround. I'll talk to Mr. and Mrs. Delauney to keep their windows open. So, they'll hear you. You'll just have to ask them to let you in. Otherwise, as an exception, we'll use a doorstop to keep the door from closing. But I'd prefer to avoid it for safety reasons," Pierre explained.

"Yes, yes. That's fine. Let's do that. Well, I must go now, or it'll be too crowded. I don't like it when it's too crowded. Oh, I should have gone this morning! Have a good evening, gentlemen," Mrs. Boileau said.

"Have a good evening, Mrs. Boileau," Gégé said with a friendly smile.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Have a good evening to you too, Mrs. Boileau. Well, Gégé, good luck. I hope you can get back home," Pierre added with a hint of concern.

"Oh, don't worry about me, son. I'm a big boy," Gégé reassured with a huge grin.

Pierre entered the building and knocked on the Delauneys' door immediately to the right upon entering. They were a couple without any particular history, quite discreet. As far as Pierre knew, the husband was a banker, and the wife was a dentist. Unsurprisingly, the doorbell didn't work, so he knocked three times. Mr. Delauney opened the door.

"Yes? Oh, good evening, Mr. Marchais. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Good evening, Mr. Delauney. Sorry to bother you at this hour, but I'll need a favor. As you may have noticed, the main entry panel of the building isn't working anymore, and it seems to be due to the power outage," Pierre explained.

"Oh, yes. I saw that. It's very strange. My car broke down at a red light at the same time as all the others. Without my wife, I would have been stuck at the door," Mr. Delauney said.

"That's why I'm here. Mrs. Boileau went out and will be at the door when she returns. Could you leave your windows open so you can hear her when she asks you to open the door?" Pierre requested.

"Ah. That's not a problem," the man replied understandingly.

"Thank you very much," Pierre sighed with relief.

Pierre Marchais moved away from the Delauneys' door and took the stairs to his apartment two floors above. It was as quiet as a church, with warm light flooding the place through the tall west-facing windows. However, Pierre knew it was only a matter of time before he would soon be in darkness. Shortly, the sun would set behind the roofs of the buildings across the street, plunging the elegant apartment into twilight and then darkness.

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Tossing the suit jacket he had kept under his arm since leaving La Défense on the back of his sofa along with his tie and removing his sweat-soaked shirt, Pierre felt an immense sense of relief wash over him. He had sweated a lot during the day, and even worse on the way back. He prepared a plain white T-shirt and ordinary jeans. He didn't want to stay a minute longer in that outfit.

He laid out all his clean clothes on a chair at the exit of his custom-made walk-in shower and finished undressing. Facing the large mirror above his sink, he observed his reflection. His muscles were quite well-defined, and his chest was covered in hair as dark as his hair. His hair was a bit long, but he liked it that way. Some locks fell on his forehead, forming fine curls with coppery highlights. His skin was always tanned, summer or winter, as he liked to tan in tanning booths. But it was best to go on vacation to the south of France or further south to Spain or Greece.

Pierre turned away from the mirror and headed for his shower cabin. Much to his surprise and frustration, when he turned the dial controlling the water flow of his showerhead, only a thin stream of water came out.

"What the hell is this?! No water either," he exclaimed in surprise.

Dammit! It's getting worse and worse! No electricity! No water! What about gas?!

He ran naked to his kitchen and immediately noticed that nothing was working properly.

"Let's see. No water, no electricity, no gas. I need to buy some stuff! What am I going to need? To wash, I'll have to be patient. In the meantime, I'll cover up the smell with deodorant and cologne. Lighting... Candles! And fire! So, lighters! Um, then... Food! What's in the fridge?"

Pierre opened the door and unsurprisingly saw that it was off.

"Let's see. Not much. A pack of ham, leftovers from last night, a curry pizza, butter, meat, dairy products that go until... next week. An opened carton of milk. Pickles. Country pâté. I have time, but it needs to stay cool. And since we don't know how long this shit will last... Orange juice. Jam. Cheese. OK! What else? Water! I'm going to need water!"

Pierre hurriedly returned to the bathroom, changed clothes, and sprayed deodorant to cover the smell of sweat. As he was about to leave with a bag to carry his purchases, he abruptly stopped, realizing that a crucial item had almost slipped his mind.

"Shit! Do I have any cash on me?!"

He put the bag on the ground and searched his leather wallet for some bills, thinking that maybe the credit cards would be declined. Luckily, he had some.

"Two twenty bills, a five bill, and some coins. Should be enough. I hope," he muttered.

He picked up his empty bag and left his apartment, but not without informing the Delauneys. He walked to the Monoprix a few streets away from his place, on Boulevard de Sébastopol. He remembered it closed around eleven o'clock.

It was a splendid building with a facade adorned with many sculpted decorations and tall windows. The Monoprix, occupying two floors, looked a bit out of place, but Pierre was relieved it was there. Several times he had come here to fill his fridge after a grueling day of work.

There were few words to describe the chaotic scene he found inside, and it had only been a few hours since all security systems had stopped working. The atmosphere was reminiscent of Christmas Eve, minus the festive mood. Tension was palpable as some were clearly panicking and stocking up. Certainly, fear was a very contagious emotion. People were running around in all directions, trying to find the product they needed first. He saw a customer with a cart filled with toilet paper, sanitary napkins, baby food, and pasta, while another had filled his with canned goods and diapers. Customers jostled and argued to get a product they might not have even glanced at before the power outage.

Crazies. They don't realize this is how shortages are created?

Many customers with full carts were being refused payment by credit card and thus had to give up purchasing many products because they didn't have enough cash on them. The elderly were advantaged here, as they were less used to paying by card. However, these people were not much better off since the cashiers couldn't use their cash registers. Of course, the self-checkouts weren't working either, greatly reducing the options for on-site payment.

What Pierre didn't know was that in some stores, the situation was worse because the prices, usually displayed on small screens, had disappeared at the time of the power outage. In those cases, one had to find the corresponding price or guide customers to other products whose prices were known. Here, there wasn't that problem, as everything was written on paper labels.

The frenzy that had taken hold of the customers had very quickly had very visible effects on the shelves, which only exacerbated the feeling of fear among the customers. Holes had already begun to appear in all the shelves, with few exceptions, holes that the disoriented employees couldn't fill.

Fools. Truly fools.

Despite his own concerns, he couldn't help but feel compassion for the overwhelmed store staff. The employees, overwhelmed by the massive influx of customers, were doing their best to maintain order and provide minimal service. But in the chaotic atmosphere that prevailed, it was clear that resources and staff were insufficient to deal with the situation. He had no trouble finding fraudsters and thieves in the crowd, but it wasn't his role, and he didn't have time to play cop and robber.